A Warlord's Swansong
Countess Lyrics

High in a tower, far away from daily life And old man sits on his throne
An old man sits alone in a tower, removed from the day-to-day bustle of life.

The room is dim and you can hardly hear The city that spreads down below
The room is shadowy and quiet, with only the faint hum of the city seeping in from below.

Dreams of faded glory haunt his memory The vultures are waiting, he knows it too well!
The man is racked with memories of past glory, but he knows that his enemies are circling, waiting for him to falter.

And mournful he wishes he could return To days of youth and to shatter the world...
He wishes he could return to his youthful days and rule the world again with unabashed power.

His aching limbs remind him There's a price that's soon to pay And this time his power won't save him From the reaper who's after his soul...
He is reminded that his age will soon catch up with him and that death is coming for him, regardless of his past power.

Oh, how hard it is for a warrior To bear the spears Old Age throws When the way to death - which he never feared! Is paved with misery and pain...
He finds it difficult to accept the physical toll that age has taken on his body, and that the road to death is fraught with suffering and hardship.

Looking back, he doth ask himself: 'Whom did I do all this for?' His own sons did fall long years ago Sacrificed on his path to fame...
He questions his motivations for his past actions, and remembers the high cost of his ambition - even the loss of his own sons.

Remembrance leaves him smiling For moments the warmth of life hath burned But then his knowledge doth return There's a price that's soon to pay...
Memories of a vibrant life bring him a brief reprieve of happiness, but the knowledge of his impending death creeps back in.

Uneasy he shifts around on his throne Death's icy grip, it's ever so near! What no one suspects, he doth know it well For the Horned One's assistance he'll soon have to pay
He's uncomfortable on his throne, aware of his looming death. He knows that he'll soon have to make a deal with the devil to cheat death.

In early days of mindless youth Light-hearted was his oath And though he did serve very well He's still afraid to go...
In his youth, he made promises with little thought to their long-term consequences. Though he kept his oath, he is still afraid of death.

For no longer can he set the rules He's soon to play the Master's game And that thought leaves him worrying About the price that's soon to pay...
He realizes that he no longer has control over his fate, and must follow the rules set by a higher power. He worries about the cost of his eventual death.

The screams of the dying, the wailing of widows Yes, he sent many souls to burn! The hatred he brewed for the minds of men Is the fuel of the fires of Hell!
He reminisces about the many souls he sent to their deaths and the pain he caused their loved ones. He acknowledges the hatred he sewed in the hearts of men, which will likely condemn him in the afterlife.

He washed the streets with the blood of his victims Not once, but wherever he came And the thought of their souls serving him soon Doth make him shiver with joy...
He gleefully recalls the bloodshed that he wrought everywhere he went, and the idea of the souls of his victims serving him in the afterlife excites him.

And no longer is he fearful With pleasure he will heed the Call The loving presence of the Master Maketh this price a joy...
He is no longer fearful of the cost of his impending death. He takes pleasure in the idea of answering the call of a higher power, who he believes will make his death worth it.